Mad Love
by kpop77
Summary: Harley Quinn and the Joker love each other in their own, crazy way—people around them tell them its unhealthy and abusive. But what they don't see are the few tender, real moments in the two clowns' relationship—and that's all that matters. All hail the true King and Queen of Gotham City.


Description: Harley Quinn and Joker's love each other in their own, crazy way—people around them tell them its unhealthy and abusive. But when have the two clowns given a damn about what anyone else thinks? All hail the true King and Queen of Gotham City.

 **Prologue.**

"I don't understand." June said, tilting her head as she observed Harley from outside of her cage. The two women had grown a connection, when they both experienced hardships during their relationships—June, with her compromising fusion with Enchantress, and Harley, with the Joker's apparent death after his chopper crash-landed. "All these stories you've told me—almost all of them end up with Joker either violently abusing you or almost killing you."

"It's because he needs me." Harley winked, as if that explained everything.

June was lost for words. Maybe it was because Harley was mental, or because Harley was naive, or because Harley was a walking doormat who's self-esteem went negative whenever she talked about the Joker. "Harley, are you really so sure?"

Harley sighed. "God, Puddin' would kill me if I told you this, but since he's dead, I guess I can."

* * *

Harley woke up to the sound of running water. Bleary-eyed, she pushed herself up from the bed covers and jumped to the floor, the bear-skin rug tickling her feet. She couldn't help but let a little smile grace her face—her love did know how to work magic the moment he threw her onto that furry rug.

She tip-toed to the bathroom, expecting to see the Joker washing his face, or taking a late bath.

Instead, she found the Joker sitting in the tub, fully clothed, his purple shirt plastered to his body as he looked down at his reflection.

"… Puddin', what are you doing here?" Harley asked, tilting her head. Perhaps the Joker was trying to make plans for his greatest heist. After all, his greatest plans often hatched in the most random ways possible—perhaps he was trying to rack in some inspiration?

The Joker looked up, his eyes half-closed as he registered Harley. He broke into a smile. "I'm afraid I'm a bit looney at the moment—overdosing on pills sure feels spectacular and horrid at the same time."

Harley looked at the foot of the tub—bottles and bottles of pills. Prescription pills. The ones used at Arkham Asylum. Harley crouched at the Joker's side by the tub and slowly began caressing his arm. The Joker always had trouble sleeping—either he was brooding too much over his next heist or he simply couldn't sleep. "Puddin', do you want some water?"

"Harley, I'm literally in a tub full of hydrogen dioxide." The Joker growled, flexing his jaws.

"Just in case you wanted to wash all the gunk down." Harley batted her lashes—she didn't want to get him upset. The last time he got upset, she had to steal Batman's cape, dress it on a mannequin, and let him hack away at the dummy until all was left were tattered pieces of cloth and fuzz.

The Joker began rocking slowly in the tub, creating little waves as he continued to stare at his reflection, now fragmented and muddled. "I blew up a bank today."

"Aw, was it fun? You always did love the smell of burning cash in the morning." Harley smiled, putting a piece of stray green hair back in its place.

The Joker smiled—but it wasn't his usual comical, laughing grin, or his maniacal, macabre grin that she loved. No, this was a smile that Harley hadn't seen in a while—an unhappy smile. "I blew out the bank executive's brains. He was such a little coward, scrambling against the wall. When I put that bullet through his skull, I made such pretty red flowers."

"It must have been amazing, Puddin'." Harley giggled.

The Joker didn't laugh with her. "He said some things—a little bit of chit-chat that made Daddy very angry."

Now Harley knew something was wrong—he only referred to himself as Daddy when he was either in a stellar mood, or an extremely bad one. The atmosphere was a total minefield.

The Joker continued. "He had the audacity to _laugh._ At Me. I had the muzzle of my gun pointed at his ugly, large forehead, and he burst out laughing."

" _You must hate yourself, so much—the only people who stick by you are people who are afraid of you. No one will ever truly love you—not even your ugly self._ " The Joker slowly repeated, his eyes clouding over.

He poked at the surface of the water again, causing ripples that distorted his reflection once more. His gaze was still milky, like he couldn't quite focus while lost in his thoughts. This was too different and strange for Harley to comprehend—the Joker she knew was cold, calculated, and just as unhinged as she was. He never paused to regret or let the trivial words of some victim get to his brain.

"Puddin'," Harley whispered, climbing into the tub to face the Joker, "he's wrong."

"But it's true." Joker laughed, throwing his head back as he spoke in a booming, grandiose voice. "I hate myself, as does this whole world."

"You're wrong." Harley bit her lower lip. "I love you."

"Oh, I remember your oath." Joker laughed, leaning back in the tub as he registered Harley in front of him. "I remember what you promised me—but you're mad. Crazy. Insane. A little looney tune, just like me. How do you know that you're in love with me as a person? You approached me in the asylum because you wanted to fix me—and you gave me love because you were stupid enough to think that I appreciated you."

"Harleen approached you to fix you." Harley corrected. "I swore an oath because I wanted to be with you."

"Yes, that dive into that Ace Chemicals vat was quite a show." Joker nodded. "I admit it—I was surprised. I didn't think you'd do it. And when you finally disappeared under the chemicals, I thought I was rid of you completely. I was ready to leave. But I hesitated. Why did I hesitate?"

Harley remained silent as the Joker's voice got faster, more urgent, almost as if he were trying to converse with himself.

"I hesitated because—because I wanted to see Harleen Quinzel's dead body. But why did I dive in? Now that is extremely interesting—there was absolutely no reason for me to dive in and retrieve her. I guess I did end up becoming a little affectionate about her when she was following me around as Harleen. You know that crazy minx promised to live for me—yes, she promised to dedicate her life, love, pain, and madness, all of that delicious little snack-mix just for me. You wouldn't believe it, would you? That someone would offer to let you _have_ them? Because who'd ever want to be with such a disgusting monster? I guess that's why I always tried to kill her in the early days, you know, when she wore that pretty harlequin costume. I didn't believe she actually wanted me, especially someone so pretty and deliciously mad like her. Maybe I was always nervous that she'd one day just up and leave and never come back to me—that her oath was a lie. That she was just a thoughtless little girl that was just another distraction that I had allowed to cloud my vision. But you know, she always came back, even after every single one of our spats. She's always proved herself to me, to remain by my side, as she survived and endured." The Joker rushed on, looking straight through Harley as his eyes began clouding over again. "I really do need her sometimes, you know? That looney tune makes me doubt that everyone hates me—she makes me doubt that I hate myself."

Harley was lost for words when Joker's mumbled, jumbled rant came to a slow halt. Slowly, she crawled towards the Joker before settling in his lap, cradling his head in the crook of her neck as she stroked his hair with her wet hands.

There were only two moments when she had seen Joker cry. The first time had been years ago, when he had overdosed and kneeled before her, straddling her waist as he sobbed over what he had remembered. "I remember." The Joker had sobbed. "I remember."

Perhaps it had not actually been a true memory—the Joker did love multiple choice. But whatever the Joker had remembered had almost broken the man. The clown prince himself had crumpled in front of Harley—and Harley had held onto every, single broken piece. Because she loved the Joker not because of the sliver of humanity he rarely exhibited, but because he had seen the small, budding madness Harleen had and had blossomed it into the flower of insanity that Harley reveled in.

Leaning down, Harley placed a slow kiss on the Joker's lips, moving her mouth against his even if he didn't reciprocate in his trance.

She jolted slightly when she felt two, large and wet hands in her hair, and smiled slightly as she felt the Joker's lips moving against her own. She dared to open her eyes—her love was staring straight at her, his irises clearer than a cloudless sky.

"You know, Harley," he breathed, "I could tell you meant that. And, if you would, Daddy would like a little bit more."

He made her. And she needed every, last bit of him. And he needed every, last bit of her.

P.S.

The bearskin rug isn't the only place to have a little fun in.

* * *

A/N: im laughing and crying while writing this but I cant reread it I cringe I cant romance im sorry


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